QW14: Love In One-Shots
by spezria26
Summary: QW14: I was going to make a collection of any and all one shots I may do for Quinntana Week 2014. It could be one or two, or it could be five or six. Enjoy! All Quinntana all the time.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: For Quinntana Week 2014 I wrote a "Meet the Family" story, although it's less of a meet the family and more of a "coming out to the family" story, but I'm counting it. It's both Santana and Quinn's coming out.**

Meet the Family

The Matter of Coming Out

"Are you sure about this?"

"No," I reply stubbornly. I can feel my throat constricting. All week its had this clawing feeling raking at its sides, a secret desperate to get out. I told myself I was going to do it today, but it's not that easy. I was actually looking forward to today, looking forward to coming clean. That was, until the day actually came.

"San," she says, gripping my hand. A flow of warm tingles runs up my hand. Even after all the months we've been together she still managed to elicit this feeling from me. "I know you can do it, babe."

I stare at her. It's funny. She should be broken. She should be weeping in a mess, telling me not to do it. She should be encouraging me to stay in the closet forever, but she's not. She's my strong angel, the way she's always been since the day I met her. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life and she had this defiant scowl and piercing eyes that stabbed my soul. The moment I saw her I just knew I'd fallen down the rabbit hole, and I'd never come out of Wonderland. And I'd never want to leave.

Last month Quinn came out to her parents. It did not go well.

QW14

—Flashback—

"Mama," Quinn calls out as she unlocks her door, gripping my hand as she lets her bag slide off her shoulder and onto the floor in the outdoor hallway. "I'm home!"

"Hello Q-ee," she responds. She walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a blue cloth. "Hey Santana." She smiles graciously. She eyes our hands, fingers entwined; I can see this cloudy, unsure look cloud her eyes. But then she looks back up and smiles at us.

I recognize that look. It isn't an accepting look and it isn't a look of ignorance. It's a look of silence. It's a 'Don't ask, don't tell' look. She thinks if she ignores the fact that we're holding hands, that we've been just a little too close lately, it'll go away. She thinks she can turn the other cheek and if she doesn't see it, it isn't actually happening.

I almost scoff at her ignorance. I want to yell at her for being so thick. I want to tell her that ignoring it doesn't make it go away, it just makes it worse on everyone. But for now, this is how Quinn wants it. And I'll respect that because I love Quinn. It's not my battle, it's hers and it isn't mine to tell.

"Hey Mrs. F," I say with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"San and I are going to be in my room," Quinn tells her mom.

"Okay sweetie. Dinner will be in a couple of minutes. Will Santana be joining us?"

"Yeah." She grips my hand just a little bit tighter at the mention of dinner.

"Okay darling," Mrs. F says, already on her way back to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Quinn drags me up the stairs into her bedroom. As soon as we're up there she immediately lets go of my hand and begins pacing around her room, breathing heavy. "I'm not sure I can do this, Tana."

"Q, you've been planning this for nearly a month. It's been eating you up inside and I can't bear to see you like this anymore."

She continues pacing, unaffected by my words. "I know I said I'd tell them at dinner today, but it's just… it's all too fast. Maybe I shouldn't do this. It isn't practical. They'll throw me out. I can't…"

I grab her shoulders and still her in the middle of her room. Her eyes are watery and her breaths rapid and shallow. She looks so cute when she's worried. "Quinn, you can do this. I don't want to pressure you into anything; you can do this whenever you're ready. But I think you need to do this for you right now," I say. "I can see you're losing yourself. You're too busy faking the good Christian and good girl and the popular HBIC you're losing who you really are."

"You're one to talk," she bites back. "You're not out yet either. You're more scared than I am!" I instantly shut up. Her eyes widen, like she just processed what she's saying. "God, I'm sorry Santana. You should come out on your own time. I just…"

"No, it's fine," I mutter. "You're right." I am scared. I'm absolutely terrified of coming out to my parents. My mother was raised in a strict Hispanic culture and they believe firmly in God. My abuela is more religious than Quinn's parents. I love her to death, but she's not exactly the most tolerant person I've ever met. My mom's a little more open and she loves me to tears, but she was still raised in a super religious household. I don't know how she'll react. She could disown me.

My father, he's a bit of a different story. My dad is far more liberal. He's a doctor who works at a hospital, but he's expecting the same old boring story for me. He wants me to go to a good college, marry a nice man, have beautiful children, and die with a wedding band on my finger and next to my husband's grave. I can just imagine the disappointment in his eyes now.

"No I'm not, Santana," Quinn says. "I'm taking my anger and stress out on you. You're the bravest person I know. I'm just projecting onto you. You're right. I'm losing myself. I just hurt you. I told myself I'd never hurt you. I'd hurt myself before I ever hurt you. I'm losing who I am and what I stand for. I can't keep playing all these parts anymore. I'm going to come out to my mom and dad tonight at dinner."

"Are you sure?" I ask unsteadily. "You don't have to if you're not ready. I don't want you to feel pressured or regret it later—"

"The only thing I'm going to regret is if I don't tell them sooner. I can't deal with another dinner of my mom setting me up with a boy from our country club who's self-absorbed, uninteresting, and quite frankly not nearly as attractive as you." I smile weakly. She brings a finger up to my chin, lifting it. "There's that smile. And I'll have you with me." She intertwines our fingers again. "As long as I have you, that's all I'll ever need."

I want to tell her how beautiful she looks right now, her defiant smile. I want to tell her how proud I am of her. I want to tell her that she's turning me on right now. I want to tell her that when she touches me I get sparks all throughout my body. I want to tell her that when she walks into my room, everything else fades to black. She's the only thing I ever notice. I want to tell her that every time I hear her talk I get lost in her voice. I want to tell her every time I look into her eyes I've never felt so connected to anybody. I want to tell her I don't know who I am without her. But I don't. I say, "I love you."

It's the first time in the six months we've been together that I've said that I love her.

"You love me?" she asks, tears blurring in her eyes.

"I fucking love you Quinn Fabray, my strong angel," I say with a wide smile.

"I fucking love you too, Santana Lopez, my brave girl." She leans in and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I slowly put my hands on her hips and lead her back onto the bed. The two of us collapse onto the fluffy sheets and continue kissing. It's without demand or consequence. It isn't frenzied passion. It just is. It's her telling me she loves me and me telling her she's my everything.

We kiss like this until her mom calls up, "Quinn, Santana, it's time for dinner." The two of us slowly separate after that.

"Time to face the music," Quinn says. She has a sad look in her eyes. Looking back on it, it's almost like she knew what was going to happen. But for some reason she went down with a confidence in her step and she told them anyways.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. "Mom, Dad," she takes a deep breath. "I'm gay. I love girls. I'm never going to love and marry a guy. I'm going to love and marry Santana." It was shocking to hear her say that. We'd never talked about the future, not really. Hell, I made her promise not to even talk about college because if we went two different places it would be too agonizing to think about. Knowing that she thought about it, that she planned to marry me sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. It didn't last long.

Russell blew up at her. His face was redder than a tomato, and let me tell you that is really damn red. "No daughter of mine will be gay! Quinn, march straight back up to your room right this instant! And you," he turns his attention on me. "Freaking dyke, you turned my daughter gay! You used your devilish charms on her poor sweet heart and seduced her into sin."

Judy was just standing there, hands covering her mouth, appalled. She just kept muttering, "Oh Quinn. Oh my baby girl." Tears were in her eyes. She was ashamed. She was disappointed in her daughter. It freaking pissed me off. Quinn was perfect. She was beyond perfect. And they couldn't even see what God had blessed them.

"Santana didn't 'seduce' me. I fell in love with her!" Quinn shouts back at her father.

"Get back up to your room right now," Russell grows at her, taking a threatening step towards her. Something in me just snapped.

"You stay the hell away from her," I growl, putting myself between the two of them. Quinn tries to push me back, but I don't move.

Russell, the bastard, comes straight towards me until his face is barely a centimeter away from mine. "Back away from my daughter," he snarls.

I stand my ground. "Not a chance."

Russell looks up to the sky and begins to fucking pray to God. He better if he doesn't want me to whoop his ass. "Dear Lord, please forgive me for this." And suddenly, his jaw connects with my face. I stumble backwards, reeling from the experience. I'm a little dizzy and things aren't quite in focus. I bring a hand up to my jaw, it feels funny.

Quinn runs to my side, clutching my arm and helping to keep me upright. "You monster," she yells at him through tear-stained eyes.

"Quinnie, I'm giving you a chance to repent for your sins," Russell says, standing next to his ever-faithful doormat of a wife Judy. He makes a 'come hither' motion with his hand. "Come over here, Quinn. Leave her behind. God will forgive you for this slight lapse in judgment."

She looks up at him. I've never seen her angrier in her life. I've never seen her stronger than in that moment. Despite everything in the world being against her, she'd never looked more powerful, more beautiful. "I have nothing to repent for. You do. I won't leave Santana. I love her." She stands tall and proud as she reaches for my hand and holds it in hers.

"Quinn, get over here right now. This is your last chance. Either you come over here and we get you fixed or you pack your things and you leave. Tonight." I hear Judy cry out, her baby leaving her.

Quinn doesn't say a word. She just brings our joined hands to her mouth and kisses it. It's more powerful than any words she could've said.

"I see you've chosen sin. You have ten minutes to grab all your things and never come back. I hope you enjoy it in hell."

"I'll see you there," she bites. And just like that she walks up the stairs and begins packing. I help her. We're out of there in nine minutes and speeding off in my car.

"Babe, I'm so proud of you," I say, our hands still together.

"Santana," she says.

"Yeah?"

"It hurts." That's when I look over and I finally see her crying.

—End of Flashback—

QW14

And yet here she is standing tall, telling me to come out. She's living in one of those LGBT group homes for teens whose parents kicked them out. A lot of the LGBT teens in Ohio live there, it's sad really that so many are rejected. I come around a lot and the people there are so nice and inclusive. Quinn calls them family by now. They're way better than the people she was born into. She jokes if my parents do the same I can come live with her a little bit ahead of time. I know she's just joking, but it's all too real of a possibility after seeing what Quinn's parents did.

"I think I'm ready."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I jiggle my key into the door and walk in. Quinn is right beside me. I want to reach out and have her hold me. I want us to brush hands. I just want to touch her in some way. It'll calm me, but I know I can't right now.

My parents are waiting in the living room, both sitting seriously on the couch. "Santana, we're both here, what is it? Why did you text us to both be here? Is something wrong?"

"Nothings wrong mom." Not exactly wrong…

"Then what is it, San?" she asks, tenderly caressing my arm. I can't help but wonder will she be doing that in a minute? Will I still be her baby in a minute? Or will she treat me like Judy and Russell treated Quinn, a piece of garbage, a nothing.

Suddenly, I begin to lose my nerve. What if she does kick me out? What if she stops loving me? I look into her deep brown eyes, the ones that match mine. Could those eyes turn against me? Maybe I'm not ready to do this.

I glance over at my dad. He's nervously tousling with his hands. He's afraid for me. In another minute will he still care for me? Will he still be afraid for me, or will he be afraid of me?

Is right now the moment I lose my parents?

I could hold onto them longer. I could just not say anything. I could say it was something stupid. It was something Sue did. I come up with a thousand reasons, a thousand excuses, anyway for me not to tell them.

But there's this clawing feeling in my throat, this feeling that tells me I need to say something. There's a knife in my heart and it's killing me not telling them. But which is worse? Hiding who I am as it slowly tears me apart on the inside or getting torn apart by them? Estranged from the parents I love, the people who raised me, the people who taught me about love.

And that's when Quinn steps up next to me. It's a small gesture, but she grabs my hand and its all the strength I need. Look at her and I know. Even if I lose my parents today, which is an all too real possibility, I'll have her. And that's all I need to know. That's all the reassurance need.

"Mom, Dad, I'm gay." I squeeze my eyes tight, not wanting to see their reaction. I focus in only on Quinn's hand in mine and how right that feels.

"Oh Santana," my mother says. She sounds disappointed. "We're so proud of you!" And that's when my eyes fly open.

"Proud?" Wait… what just happened. Did they hear me correctly? I shoot a skeptical look at Quinn, but she's grinning away.

"Dear, we've known for years," my father adds gently, standing up off the couch to give me a hug.

"But… how?"

"Honey, we saw the way you looked at Quinn when you were thirteen years old. I'm so happy for the two of you!"

Still shocked, I entangle from my father's embrace. "You've known since I was thirteen?"

"We're just glad that you finally told us."

I take a shallow breath. I'm just so relieved, but a little pissed off. "You let me go on for years without saying anything as I worried whether you'd accept me?"

"Oh honey," my mother says, caressing my face. "We just didn't want to force you. We wanted you to tell us on your own time. Back then I'm not even sure you knew," she tutted.

"Mami," I say, shoving her playfully.

She smiles, "I'm just so proud of you baby." She directs her attention over to Quinn. "And darling, welcome to the family!"

Quinn smiles. "Thanks Mrs. Lopez. It's nice to have a family again." And just like that, it was over. The moment I had been dreading for months became one of the best experiences of my life. I was finally free and I was finally 100% me. I smile at Quinn and give her a chaste kiss.

"Okay okay, kiss your girlfriend on your own time," Dad taunts. "I'm going to go make dinner, Quinn, feel free to stay."

"Thanks Mr. Lopez."  
The two of us eloped for my bedroom upstairs. "Hey, I'm proud of you,' Quinn says, pulling me into a much deeper kiss now that my parents aren't around. "I love you."

"I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2: The Love I Meant to Say

**Summary: Quinntana Week 2014: Future Quinntana. What happens when Santana gets a call from Quinn?**

The Love I Meant to Say

I hear my phone ring, interrupting my episode Criminal Minds. I wiggle my way out from my fluffy blankets surrounding me, groping around carelessly. I'm sure it's just another business call.

Finally reaching it, I glance down at the contact. Quinn Fabray. I suddenly feel my pulse race, knowing exactly what's about to happen.

"What," I growl into the phone. I can't sound overeager about this call. I have to play it cool.

"Nice to hear from you too, Santana," Quinn replies sarcastically.

"What do you want?" We both know, but it's all part of the foreplay. This is how we've always done it. This is how we've done it for three years. Some things never change.

"I don't know. James went away last night for business," she says ever so innocently. I can just imagine her on the other side of the line, twirling a piece of that perfect blonde hair around her finger as she bites down on her lip. "I guess I was just feeling a little… lonely."

"I'm sure," I respond a little seductively.

"I was wondering if you could come over." If anybody else had been listening to this conversation they'd think it was just two best friends comforting each other. Maybe for her it was. For me, it was far more. It was the call I lived for once every month when her stupid boyfriend would finally leave her home alone.

"What's in it for me?"

"Wine. Company. Conversation." Her voice lilts. "Maybe even more if you're a good girl." I can already feel my blood rushing and my head go light.

"Nothing better to do," I say, adding a shrug as if she could see me.

"Be here in an hour," she demands. Her voice lowers an octave. "I'll be waiting for you." I can already feel my panties dampening.

As soon as she hangs up I immediately begin rushing around. First things first, I need to change; I can't show up to her house in sweatpants. I need to look hot, but like I'm not trying. I quickly jump into the shower, shave, and throw on a casual pair of jeans and A Cliks t-shirt. I put on a heavy coat of eyeliner, no mascara, and some lip-gloss. We both know that we're rushing around at home trying to look as sexy as possible, but it's part of our unspoken agreement that we don't talk about it. So putting on any more make-up would make it clear I was trying.

After a few more touch-ups here and there I jump into my car and begin the half an hour commute to Quinn's house. Doing your make-up in less than fifteen minutes is a skill, I know.

It's funny, really, how this all began. I still remember it from so long ago. We were never really best friends to begin with. In High School we were 'best friends' on the outside, but my only true friend in high school was Brittany. Quinn and I just had this tenuous agreement that we'd use each other to climb the social ladder. We'd occasionally have a sleepover, share a secret or two, but we were more like backstabbing bitchy acquaintances rather than friends. But there was an amount of respect between us.

In college she shipped off to Yale and I went off to… I don't like to think about it. It was a low point in my life when I believed in energy exchanges and gave up my happiness because I thought college would get me farther in life than just dropping out and moving to New York, no plans. Halfway through the year I finally decided to follow my dreams and move to NYC, best decision of my life. It's really kind of funny actually. We never lived all that far apart from each other for four years. It would've been an hour trip each way and she has a MetroPass, as do I, but it didn't cross my mind or hers.

We only saw each other on the rare occasions here and there. The first time we ever hooked up was at Mr. Schue's wedding. I don't know if it was because she was drunk or if she was really into me or if it was just valentine's day and she was feeling lonely, but it was one of the best experiences of my life. She was a freak in the sheets. There was no way that was her first time with a girl. It was beyond mind-blowing.

After that we saw each other at a few other events. We met up at the Glee Reunion before the club shut down. I guess it couldn't survive without my raw talent. We didn't hook up then. Back then the two of us were still trying to desperately cling to high school, to everything we'd lost. She went back to Puck and I went back to Brittany. Her and Puck broke up a year later; I saw it on her Facebook account. Britt and I lasted a while, but eventually we realized that as much as we love each other it wasn't mean to be, romantically speaking. She's off dancing on Lady Gaga's tour now, solving some math equations on the side for MIT.

Quinn and I ran into each other here and there. We flirted a little, but it was harmless. She came to one of Rachel's performances of Funny Girl. When Kurt and Blaine finally got back together for good, we both showed up at their wedding. When some idiot at MIT broke Brittany's heart we both came to console her, neither of could ever say no to the sweet blonde. We'd see each other here and there, but it wasn't really a big thing. We'd hook up every so often, not on purpose, and meet again and pretend it never happened. It was how we worked best.

Then one day, completely out of the blue, she calls me up and asks me to come over. I do. After a bottle of wine and half of a shitty movie we're upstairs, ripping each other's clothes off. I left early in the morning when she kicked me out because James would be back soon.

I figured it was a one-time thing, maybe she was lonely, and maybe she was pissed off at her boyfriend. I didn't know and I didn't care. I got free, hot sex with probably the only other girl I found remotely attractive in high school. Blondes, they're my weakness.

We didn't talk again for a while, but then she called me to come over. I did. And just like that it became a thing. She would call me and I would come and we'd fuck.

Then she got married. I came to the wedding. I watched them say their vows. They looked so happy. I figured, she'd finally committed to someone. This little tryst of ours would be over. And it was for a couple months. I even got a girlfriend in between that time, instead of just sleeping around. Her name was Nina. But then I got a call from Quinn. I went over to her house. We had a couple drinks and then she practically jumped me. I broke up with Nina the next day.

I started casually sleeping around again; being in a committed relationship wouldn't be fair to anyone else. I didn't even realize it when it was happening, but I slowly tailored my sex-life to revolve around Quinn. Each girl in between her was just another face, just another night; it was just me filling the time until she called.

In the last year or so though, I've stopped sleeping around. I told myself I'm not in a relationship with Quinn. I know that, I really do. But it just feels… wrong sleeping with anybody else. To her I'm just her fuck toy, the girl she calls when her man isn't around to please her.

To me, she's the girl I'd already given up everything for.

Look at poor Santana Lopez, whipped over a girl who barely gives her a second thought. None of my old friends from high school, the few I've kept in contact with, would ever believe this.

I reach Quinn's house before I realize it. The lights are on, looking out of place in the quiet, small town community. Of course she lives here. Her and her perfect husband live in the perfect community with their perfect houses that all look the same and gardens that must be trimmed every weekend. I park a little outside of her house and sneak in under the cover of dark. The only flaw in all of this, her perfect life, is me. I'm her little imperfection, the dirty secret that can never be brought to light.

I knock on the door, hoping she'll answer quickly because it's way too cold outside. She does. She's wearing a blue, slinky dress that hugs her curves just right, a few steps up from those sundresses she wore when we were kids. I subconsciously lick my lips. I can't wait to take it off of her. "What's the occasion?" I murmur, still entranced by her dress.

"No occasion," she replies flippantly, letting me in and offering me an already poured glass of red wine. I take it gratefully.

"You look good," I comment, giving her a once-over. She didn't let the years get to her. It's like she got even sexier with time. She's developed more curves over the years, but she's still kept in shape with her flat stomach and lithe arms. I can't help but take a little more time as I practically devour who pale thighs with my eyes. I'll never get sick of her.

"You too," she replies. I barely notice her eye-fucking me because I'm too doing the same to her.

"It's been awhile, huh?" I comment. It's only been a month or two. It feels like a lifetime.

"Getting clingy?"

"I'm not the one who called," I retort.

She smiles a sneaky smile. Almost as if to say touché, but not willing to admit I'm right. She takes a deep inhale and changes the subject, "So how's life?" she takes another sip of red wine, her lips leaving a slight stain of red lipstick on her glass. She easily wipes the smudge away with one delicate swipe of her fingers.

"The usual," I shrug. "How's James?"

She stays completely cool under fire. She doesn't even look shocked or surprised. "James is fine," she says flippantly, waving her hand as if he was a meaningless subject. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Most wives just love talking about their husband," I comment despite her wishes.

"I guess I'm different," she replies, taking a long sip from her glass. "So, let's talk about you. How's work? You like hearing your voice radiating throughout all the stations?"

"It's pretty fucking awesome," I smirk.

"Is it true you write all your songs?" she asks curiously. She knows the answer to this. I'm as famous for writing my own songs as Taylor Swift.

Still, I indulge her. "Yes I do."

"So you're song 'Never Forget, Never Regret' was that about Brittany?" she asks. There's a double blade to her words. On the surface they sound simply curious, but underneath there's a hint of jealousy, of malice.

I clear my throat "Yes." I had some feelings that needed to be fleshed out. Brittany and I were a long time ago, but the feelings won't ever really fade. Just like I said in my song, I'd never ever dare try to forget them. Nor ever will I find myself regretting them.

"Didn't you two break up a while ago?"

"Yes."

"Are you still not over her?"

I sigh and run my fingers through my slightly damp hair. "I think my song says it all," I reply. I am over her, but she's just an amazing experience in my life.

She doesn't reply at first, just lets out a thoughtful hm. "When you covered 'Girls Just Want to Have Fun,'" she physically gulps. "Was that for Finn?"

"Yeah," I mutter. I feel a tear draw in the corner of my eye. I remember when he sang it for me, all the way back in senior year of high school when I was still so unsure about life and afraid to come out of the closet. Finn had been the driving factor that finally let me be comfortable with just being me and when he sang for me, it moved something in me. To this day it's one of my favorite songs ever.

"What about," she begins splashing the wine around in its clear glass, "One Night," she stares up at me with her piercing hazel eyes. I want to look away, but I can't. There's something in the way she stares at me, something in her gaze, that's too powerful for mine to withstand. Her voice drops an octave, "Who did you write that for?"

I wrote it for you. I wrote it all for you. You're the only one for me. You're the only one who understands me, who puts up with my crap, and one of the only girls I've ever given my heart to so completely. And you're the only I'll never ever have. "My ex-girlfriend Nina," I reply. She was the only girl I was ever really semi-serious with other that B and Q.

"She calls me up on the phone/She tells me she's feeling alone/She needs somebody in her home," Quinn says, quoting my lyrics verbatim. "Just for the night." She stares up at me again. She knows its about her, no matter how I refute it she knows its about her. "I tell myself don't go/you're just her toy, her warm body for the night/but she has my soul/and though I'll never have hers/maybe just for just one night I will/I will."

"Yeah…"

"I thought you and Nina were serious?"

"We were."

"I didn't know one night stands were your version of serious," she clucks.

"Well… life is complicated," I reply at a loss for words.

She downs the rest of her wine glass in one gulp. "Santana cut the bullshit." I feel a panicked feeling build in my chest. "We both know who that song was about. So I'm giving you an option. You can either tell me who it was about and maybe for just one night you will have her, completely. Or, you can keep lying and we could go upstairs and you can fuck my brains out, but know that even tonight I'll belong to James."

We both sit there in silence for a moment. She's sitting there, waiting for my response. She looks nervous. I'm sitting there, having a heart attack. Do I tell her? Do I say what she wants me to say? She already knows that it's about her. What do I have to lose? Not much. What do I have to gain? Her.

Is it worth it for one night? I don't even have to think about that question. Of course it is. I'd sell my soul to the devil just for one kiss from her that actually meant something to both of us. Before I can lose my courage or talk myself out of it, I just say it, the words falling out of my mouth more easily than I expected. "I wrote it for you."

Her eyes are shining, flecks of gold jumping around in them as she smiles widely. "I know," she whispers. And just like that her sweet, soft lips are against mine. The fluffy pillows that taste like peaches and red wine.

Unlike other times that were all teeth and tongue and passion, this has more underneath the surface. This has every suppressed feeling, every emotion; we'd kept hidden beneath the surface come to life. It was gentleness and love, desperation and madness. It felt like I had just learned to breathe. In my twenty-seven years of my life, I'd finally taken my first breath.

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

QW14

The sunlight bleeding in through the window forces my eyes open. Quinn is already awake. Her head is lying on the pillow, her hair surrounding her like a halo, as she stares at me. "It's morning," she says. But it wasn't like last night. It wasn't sweet, warm, or tender.

It was frigid. It was her way of telling me that the night was over. She wasn't mine anymore. She was James'. And I had to go.

So I did. I grabbed my clothes, threw them on, and walked out of the house. She got her picket fence, perfect house, and perfect husband. Someday she'd probably have her perfect little blonde children with hazel eyes, so beautiful but never able to hold a candle to their mother.

And I'd be stuck with sad songs and a broken heart. I'd forever be the dirty secret, her moment of weakness, the one night in the dark.

**Technically this is posted at 12:15, but I'm counting it as Part of Quinntana Week 2014: Future Quinntana**


End file.
